


Crash

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone OCs - Freeform, GFY, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Other OC - Freeform, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The instructors on Kamino were always ruthless.  This was just a new low for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash

Kyorla snarled at the cadet, getting in his face as he spoke, well aware of the pointed way the other cadets avoided them.  “You’re worthless, cadet.  You think you’re hot shit, but all you are is a body, bought and paid for.”

Anomaly didn’t flinch.  Kyorla was nothing more than an asshole, same as most of their instructors.  They’d been telling him and his vod’e that they were worthless for anything but being shot at for all their lives and it’d just gotten old.  He’d learned early that keeping a smile on his face while the instructors dressed them down was the surest way of pissing them off - especially Kyorla - and he used it as frequently as possible.

“Are you-  are you done now?” Anomaly asked, keeping the friendly smile on his lips as he gestured between himself and Kyorla, “Can I go, or…?”  

Kyorla cuffed him over the head as he passed.  “Watch yourself, landuur,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “I’ve about had enough of your mouth.”

Anomaly spun on his heel, snapping a holo-perfect salute.  “Sir yes sir!”  With that, he strolled away, whistling under his breath.

* * *

 The next morning was live practice, and he woke with the prickle under his skin that meant nothing but trouble.  He didn’t know what was going to go wrong, but _something_ was just… off.  It was ice water down his spine and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t say a word.  He wasn’t that stupid.  He sat with the rest of his squad, laughing and telling jokes with them, but at the back of his mind, the warning still buzzed.  

* * *

 The controls felt wrong.  He knew it the minute he laid his hands on them.  He’d flown the LAAT/c before, he knew how the controls responded like he knew how to breathe.  “Sir,” he said quietly, looking up at Kyorla and begging the Force to just let the instructor listen to him for kriffing once, “Sir, there’s something wrong with the ship.  We can’t take her out like this.”  Kyorla’s expression told him everything he needed to know about what was going on.  

“The mechanics check out.  Get your squad on the ship and get going.  You have ten minutes to fly them to the checkpoint to retrieve the beacon and back, then execute a controlled emergency landing.  Their scores are relying on you, and none of you can afford any fuckups; any more, and they’re going to be taking a good, long look at your brothers.  Tayli'bac?”

Anomaly knew their scores had all been above average.  He knew there was no reason they should have to worry about being culled.  Worst of all, he knew that whatever happened, it was Kyorla’s fault.  “Sir yes sir.”  The resentment in his tone tasted like bile.

“That’s what I thought.”  Kyorla patted his shoulder roughly as he strolled out, whistling the same tune Anomaly had only the day before.  The young pilot picked himself up, heading out to gather his brothers.  He couldn’t bring himself to join in their laughter this time, and Cabur wrapped an arm around him.

“What’s going on, vod?  You’re never this quiet.”  He ruffled Anomaly’s hair, grinning at his batch-brother.  

Anomaly grinned up at him, covering up his fears.  “It’s nothing, probably just bad mess food, you know how that shit is.”  He knew he couldn’t tell Cabur or any of the others about his feeling.  There was nothing any of them could do.  They were helpless.

Cabur laughed and shook his head.  “Just fly steady, vod’ika.”  He stepped in front of Anomaly and touched their foreheads together in a gentle gesture before he headed with their brothers to the rear of the transport.

* * *

 Everything went perfectly through the flight out to the buoy beacon and back, and Anomaly had almost dismissed the fear, a little annoyed that Kyorla had gotten to him so easily.  They were nearly at the landing point when the whole ship shuddered, the engines cutting out.  His heart stopped in his chest, blood running cold as he fought to bring the ship back online.  His hands were shaking as they flew over the controls, but his voice was steady as he called back over his shoulder for the rest of his squad to strap in.  They were coming in too fast, there was no way to stop their descent, so he did what he could to slow it, shouting into his jammed comm.  It wasn’t enough, and as blinding white flame bloomed in his vision, he closed his eyes and pleaded for the lives of his brothers.

* * *

 When he woke, it was to a dim room and the cloying taste of bacta at the back of his throat.  It was a struggle, but he forced his eyes open - well, one, at least, the other still covered by a thick bandage - and took stock.  He didn’t ache; he didn’t feel much of anything, really, too drugged still to register pain.  Everything felt heavy and stiff, and oddly tight.  A cool hand on his wrist caught his attention, and he turned his head, wincing at the tug on his cheek as he did.  “General, what’re you doing here?” he rasped, frowning at the rasp of his voice as it scraped over his throat.

‘“Try not to move, you’ve been in a bacta tank for quite a long time,” Shaak Ti said, her voice soft as always, and she stepped forward with a small cup of water, careful as she helped him drink.  He took the cup in one hand, nearly dropping it when he realized he couldn’t move the other to steady it.  

A growing, sickening fear took hold of him as he looked up at Shaak Ti, seeing the sympathy in her eyes.  “Sir, what happened?  I remember the crash, but what-  How bad was it?  Are my brothers okay?  Can I see them?”  He didn’t want to believe the way his chest ached like his heart had been ripped from it.  “Why can’t I move my arm?”

Shaak Ti’s hand was light on his.  “Anomaly, I’m sorry,” she said, and the sorrow in her voice was enough to choke him, “The crash was too severe, you were the only survivor.  Your burns were severe, and the surgeons weren’t able to save your arm.  The replacement will take some time to adapt, but it is the best available.”  He’d started to shake under her hand, tears burning the thin, scarred skin under his bandaged eye.  

Cabur.  Stick.  A’dan.  Jax.  They were gone, and a small, grieving, furious part of him wished he’d died with them. They were his brothers, he’d only seen them that morning, they’d been laughing and joking around like always.  He could still remember Cabur’s hand on the back of his neck as he touched their foreheads together.  They couldn’t be dead.  “Sir, it was Kyorla.  You have to do something, he killed them.  He did something to the transport, I don’t know what, but you have to believe me.”  

Shaak Ti went still, and her eyes widened at his insistence.  “What do you mean?  Why would Instructor Kyorla do such a thing?”  

“I was mouthing off to him, he-  Sir, I just know it was him.  You have to believe me.”  Anomaly swallowed hard, trying to hold back the worst of the sobs that threatened to shake him apart.  “Please, sir.  You have to believe me.”  This was his fault.  He’d pissed Kyorla off and gotten his brothers killed.

“I’ll look into it,” Shaak Ti promised, and she stood, determination in the set of her shoulders.  It would be reassuring, if he wasn’t kriffing positive she wouldn’t find a thing.  Kyorla was a crafty bastard, and he was good enough to cover his tracks.  All the evidence would have been on the transport, and he was sure that had already been scrapped.  Kaminoan efficiency at its kriffing finest.  It sank in, then.  They were as worthless as the scrap, just more parts in a broken machine.  He could feel what was left of his heart ice over as he realized Kyorla was right.  

Anomaly dropped his head back on the pillow, ignoring the pain that shot through his healing skin, and he closed his eyes as he heard her leave.  Other footsteps on the floor made him look up, wishing he hadn’t when he saw Kyorla’s smirk.   “Looks like you made it after all,” the bounty hunter said, making a show of looking Anomaly over like a juicy meal, “Just as well, now you get to live knowing your squad died because you couldn’t fly.”

Hells, what did he have to lose anymore?  What could Kyorla possibly take away?  His brothers were the most important parts of his life.  It took a moment, but Anomaly had always been damn quick at picking up on mechanics.  By sheer force of will, he managed to get the mechno-arm online, and he lifted his new hand.  The pain was nearly blinding, but it was worth it for the look on Kyorla’s face as he forced the hand to cooperate, throwing up a rude gesture as he smirked.  “All due respect, sir: go fuck yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mando’a translations:  
> Laandur: as an insult, weak or pathetic  
> Tayli’bac: Got it? Okay? Understand? (Often very aggressive.)  
> Vod’ika: little brother
> 
> This is the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I’m actually proud of it.


End file.
